Fear No Evil
by Uncle Charlie
Summary: Napoleon wakes up after being a guest of THRUSH's finest and prompts beats his partner silly before turning on a nurse. Illya's determined to figure out what's going on before Napoleon is committed for insanity.


He was drowning, suffocating. It plugged his nose, his mouth, wrapped about his head with ever-tightening tendrils. It was everywhere he looked, against every square inch of his skin, poisoning him with its touch, its feel. He fought and he struggled to break himself free from its grip, to crawl towards his partner's voice.

"Illya!" he tried to scream, but his mouth was full. Instead he flailed with his hands, hands that were caught and bound.

Suddenly, he broke free and his eyes opened. Darkness, blessed, beautiful darkness and the feel of a soft hand against his face.

"Welcome back, Handsome."

He lifted tired eyes towards the voice and smiled at Nellie. He tried to talk, but his throat was thick, raw.

"I know, you just need to take it easy. You gave us quite the run for our money." She offered him a spoonful of ice chips and he sucked them in greedily, smiling as the cold liquid bathed his throat. He never thought Medical could look as good as it did, never thought the rhythmic beeping of the machines could be as soothing as they were. He was home - finally.

Napoleon took a breath and tried again. "Illya?" he croaked out even as Nellie was offering him another spoonful of ice chips.

"Right beside you." Nellie nodded to the blond who had quietly entered and had been biding his time. He let the towel he was using to dry his hair drop to the visitor's chair and he re-belted the yellow terry cloth robe firmly shut. "You're no fun," Nellie grumbled, grinning over at Illya and moving to one side so he could approach his partner.

Napoleon smiled thankfully and rolled over… and started to scream.

"Just like that, Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Yeth, thir." Illya attempted to move, but the orderly held his head still as the doctor pulled the packing from his nose. Instead, he clamped his jaw against the moan threatening to escape.

"The good news is that it's stopped bleeding. The bad news is that it's broken." The doctor pointed to an x-ray. "As is your left zygomatic arch."

"I could hab told you dat." Illya reached up to touch his aching nose, but the doctor slapped his hand away.

"No, the bad news is that I have my chief enforcement agent under heavy sedation after attacking his own partner." Alexander Waverly was not a happy man. Well, he wasn't happy most days. The burden of sending young men and women into potentially deadly situations was likely to put a damper on anyone's day, but it was a necessary part of his job. This, however, was a whole new wrinkle. "No provocation at all?"

"I didn't even get a thingle word oud, thir." The doctor turned back towards him with a hypodermic and Illya involuntarily pressed back against the orderly. "I'd prefer to go without da local, Doctor."

"Not an option." The doctor glanced over at Waverly as he depressed the plunger and a drop of clear liquid trickled from the tip. "Any more questions, sir, or may I proceed?"

"No, doctor. I will check in on you in a few hours, Mr. Kuryakin."

"Now you may feel some discomfort…" the doctor said as Waverly turned to leave.

Waverly walked slowly to Room Five where his Chief Enforcement Agent slept quietly.

"How is he, nurse?" He had no memory for the names of the nurses, even the ones who had been here as long as this one had.

"Resting comfortably at the moment, sir."

"And how are you, my dear?" He reached out to touch the bruise that had formed on her cheek.

"I'm fine, but I have a whole new appreciation for what our agents go through." She set down the clipboard she'd been holding. "How is Mr. Kuryakin?"

"Oh, I believe he shall live to fight another day. Dr. Montel said he sustained a broken nose and a fractured cheek. I would even venture that he's in store for a set of matching black eyes. He's being attended to now. It would have been far worse if you hadn't acted as quickly as you did with that sedative."

"I'm imagining that Ill… Mr. Kuryakin will be arguing the point for the next couple of days. I've never seen anything like it before."

"Tell me, nurse."

"Mr. Solo woke up, slightly agitated, but appeared fine. His vitals were all within normal range and he asked about Mr. Kuryakin. He'd just come into the room and Mr. Solo rolled over to talk to him and he just went crazy. His heart rate shot up nearly forty points almost instantly, his BP and breathing, all through the ceiling. It was as if he'd been given a huge dose of adrenaline and he just threw himself at Illya…Mr. Kuryakin and started beating on him. I don't think it even occurred to him to fight back at first. And by the time he did, Napoleon had about knocked him silly."

"He's lucky he isn't dead. Mr. Solo is quite capable."

"I'm… aware of his capabilities, sir, now perhaps more than before…" She touched her cheek again and smiled.

"Personal experience, some ice will help that more than anything else, my dear." Waverly patted her arm and walked away.

Napoleon was wallowing through something thick and heavy, it sucked at his legs and kept his arms pinned to his sides from the sheer weight of it. He slogged forward, paused and looked fearfully over his shoulder.

"Illya?" he called softly, half afraid, half desperate for an answer. There was nothing. He moved a few more inches and tried again, "Illya?"

"Wake up, Napoleon." The voice was soft and kind and he smiled happily. Not Illya… but almost as good. Gratefully he opened his eyes and gasped at the sight flooding his vision. He couldn't breathe, God, he couldn't breathe… had to fight, had to break free... He pulled strength from resources he didn't even know he possessed. He fought until the darkness settled back over him, pressing him down into blissful nothingness…

Illya sighed and started to prop up his head, only to hiss at the pain, which, in turn, caused more pain. It had only been the fact that UNCLE was running without its CEA that he'd eluded any time in Medical himself. His entire body ached from Napoleon's attack, but it was a small pain compared to the one chewing on Illya's conscience. If he'd just been a little smarter, a little better at strategy, he might have been able to find Napoleon faster, gotten him out before THRUSH did whatever it did to him.

"Here." A voice from behind him made him look slowly in that direction and he spared Nellie a slight smile as he accepted the pain pills. Normally, he'd just tough it out without them, but he was too tired tonight to fight. He felt if he could just sleep for a bit, all of this would evaporate and he'd have his partner, sane and whole, back again.

He chewed the pills briefly and then dry swallowed them. Even swallowing hurt and then he sighed as he felt hands start to massage his shoulders. Nellie's hands were strong and her fingers dug into tight muscles. She didn't ask if she was hurting him and he did nothing to mask the grunts of pain her touch was causing him.

"Napoleon woke up for a few minutes." She said it casually as if just mentioning the weather report.

"What? Why didn't you tell me?" Illya started to turn, but her hands held him firm.

"He attacked his nurse."

"Seriously?"

"She's in surgery now. They think she'll make it, but she's going to need plastic surgery. Illya, what happened to him?"

"More than likely, THRUSH happened. We don't know what they did to him."

"He was afraid of you, Illya. Why would he be afraid of you?"

"Not a clue, but if their plan was to rob us of our CEA, they've succeeded. Unless we reverse the damage, Mr. Waverly will have no choice but to pull him."

"You're next in line."

"Not a promotion I ever aspired to or necessarily even welcome, not at this price." Illya leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Even then, THRUSH would surely realize that another agent would be promoted in his place."

"What if Napoleon isn't the target? What if you are?"

Illya glanced over his shoulder at her, frowning as much as he could due to the swelling. "That makes no sense. They had equal opportunity to take me. They chose the ranking agent."

"Maybe they thought you wouldn't be as effective a leader as Napoleon?"

"Then why not kill him outright if their sole purpose was to have me assume Section Two?" He settled back in the chair again. "No, it has to be something else…"

"What if…" She stopped and sighed, biting her lip as she dug her fingers into a knotted muscle. "No, that's stupid…"

"Nothing is stupid, Nellie. Its purpose might not be immediately understood, but nothing is stupid."

"Well, mind control is nothing new to either of our organizations…"

"True."

"What if their target is the two of you? You're the best team UNCLE has. They break you up and what happens?"

"Nothing, UNCLE has another dozen teams just as good as us standing in the wings. Mark and April, for example."

"You become Section Two, Number One, who becomes your partner?"

"Mark… or April… I suppose. I hadn't thought about it."

"Breaking up another pair. Suddenly we have a major reshuffling of all the top teams in UNCLE."

"That would be assuming I take a partner. After Napoleon…"

"Waverly wouldn't let you go out into the field alone, especially after Napoleon." Nellie sighed and began rubbing her hands over his cloth covered shoulders. "Like I said, it's stupid." She squeezed her hands affectionately into the muscle. "You should go downstairs and get a proper rub down. Or some sleep."

"Not likely." He caught one of her hands and brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it softly. "Thank you."

"I'll go check on Napoleon for you."

The knock brought him awake and Illya winced. Everything hurt right now. That's what he deserved for falling asleep at his desk. The knock sounded again and he cleared his throat. He resisted the impulse to try and prop his swollen eyes open with his fingers.

"Yes?"

"Oi, mate." Mark entered and grinned, then it dropped away when he saw the senior agent. "Bloody hell, they weren't exaggerating, were they? He beat the flaming tar out of you."

"Yes, thank you, I'm painfully aware of my condition, Mark."

"We finished recon on that lab. Most of the notes had been destroyed. The ones that weren't were encoded and the brains down in Coding have them now. There was no indication of any sort of lab production taking place. I can't say much for their interior designer though. The rooms on the sub level were really odd."

"Explain. I never saw any rooms. I woke up outside about a mile from the compound."

"It was crazy, Illya. One was all white, one was all blue, another green. It was like something out of Masque of the Red Death by that Poe chap."

"The THRUSH you captured?"

"Not talking, even with our most convincing methods. Either they are very, very good, mate, or…"

"Too low to matter…"

"Napoleon woke up again."

"And attacked his nurse, yes, I was informed."

"No, they restrained him after that. April's with him now."

"Hi there." Her voice was soft and so familiar. It settled around him like a comforter, warm and welcomed. Napoleon resisted the temptation to look in its direction.

"April?"

"Uh huh." She reached out and turned his face towards her and smiled. "Sound like you've been having a rough week."

He studied her for a moment and then closed his eyes. No panic, no fear, just bone-weary exhaustion. "Illya?" The mere mention of his partner's name made his stomach roil.

"He's looking a bit worse for the wear, but he's taken much worse. His nose might be a little crooked after this though." She stroked Napoleon's face. "What happened, Napoleon? Why did you attack him? And Christine?"

"I… don't know, April."

"Do you want to hurt me?"

"No, I didn't… want to hurt them… it was something… else." He closed his eyes and tried to think, but his head was stuffed with cotton, dulled by too-much sleep and the drugs they pumped into him.

"But you're fine with me… and Nellie?" April looked back to the door and called, "Nellie?"

The nurse entered and Napoleon stared at her. "Yes."

"Then why Illya? Why your partner?"

"I don't… I can't… programmed…"

"We know you were programmed, but we don't know why or even how."

Frustration made him want to cry. Instead he yanked against the straps holding him. "Can't I just talk to him?"

Nellie settled a hand on his forearm. "Napoleon, just thinking about him and your BP and heart rate have skyrocketed. You might not be able to hurt him now, but your body can't take much more of this up and down. The heart can't take that kind of abuse."

"But if I could just talk to him… let him know…"

"I don't think that would be wise, Mr. Solo." Waverly entered the room and stood well clear of the bed, just in case. "Until we understand what happened to you, we mustn't take that chance."

"Yes, sir." Napoleon dropped back against the mattress and sighed. "I wish I could remember. We were going down the corridor… I remember…"

"Watch that beam, Illya!" Napoleon caught his partner's arm a second before he hit the beam of light. Illya nodded briefly and dropped to the ground, sliding under it easily enough. Napoleon followed a heartbeat later.

"This is very odd, Napoleon." In the dim light of the corridor, his partner was nearly invisible. They were both dressed in black from head to toe. "From the chatter we picked up, this place was teeming with THRUSH. And we've found nothing… not even a decent defense system."

"That beam looked pretty formidable."

"I'm almost willing to bet it's window dressing, just like the lock. I have a harder time picking my own lock at home."

"Why would you pick your own lock?" They stopped as the corridor split in two.

"Practice… don't you?" Illya stopped and looked from left to right. "You have a preference?"

"Nope." Napoleon checked his watch. "I have nineteen fifty two."

"Likewise."

"We meet back here in twenty. You find something, give a yell. Otherwise, we'll send the place skyhigh and be back at the hotel for a late dinner."

"Works for me." Illya patted the pack he carried. "I've got just what the doctor ordered."

"Then what happened, Mr. Solo?" Waverly's voice was soft, but insistent.

"We split. I took the right; he took the left. I'd gotten about twenty feet further and heard the explosion. The floor went out from under me and when I woke up, there was a bright light in my eyes."

"Describe the light."

"Too bright, it hurt my eyes. It was like staring into the sun." Napoleon felt a trickle of sweat roll down his temple. "Hot, insanely hot and everywhere, I couldn't see, but I could hear…"

"What?"

"Illya laughing." Napoleon's voice faltered and he thrashed his head, trying to block the sound from his ears.

"Why was he laughing?"

"At me…"

"Napoleon, why would Illya laugh at you?" April's voice was coaxing and reassuring. "He loves you."

"I know… but he was laughing and I was hurt; he wouldn't stop… I begged him… I was drowning and choking and he just laughed."

Illya sat back and shook his head slowly. "Unbelievable." He looked from Waverly to April and then back at the monitor. "I woke up about a mile from where we started. I never saw Napoleon until we stormed the place."

"You knew something had happened?"

"No, not really, he was in a holding cell, not bound or under the effects of any drugs that we could tell immediately."

"He'd been interrogated?"

"Very severely. " Illya's voice dropped. "He thinks I… did that to him?"

"On one level, no, but subconsciously, yes." Dr. Wallach pulled off his glasses and began to polish them.

Illya was silent for a moment. "If he'd been programmed to attack me, then why the nurse? Why did he attack that woman? Not from confusion. Nurse Conway looks nothing like me."

"He has a point. She's taller, darker and very… um… definitely not a man," April said.

"What did Napoleon say?"

"He couldn't remember." Mr. Waverly turned his attention to his pipe.

"He couldn't remember attacking her or why he attacked her?"

"He didn't say. His vital signs were starting to get so wild that the doctors shut our Q&A session down." April walked over to the window and looked out. "How can everything look so normal and be so wrong? I mean the sun is shining, the sky is blue; this is the sort of day that promises only good things."

"For someone other than us, I believe." Illya closed the file before him. "Instructions, sir?"

"Have you a recommendation?"

"Let me talk to the THRUSH… unofficially, of course. I might be able to persuade them."

"I would never be able to condone brutality in the name of UNCLE, Mr. Kuryakin." Waverly tapped his pipe and flicked a fast glance to April and back. "However, under severe duress, I could understand how a man in your position might suddenly snap under the pressure and take matters into your own hands."

Illya smiled tightly and stood. "Yes, sir, thank you sir."

"Try not to kill them, Mr. Kuryakin, but not too hard."

"Help me," Napoleon cried. "Illya… please…"

"No." More laughter. The yellowness of the light blinded him, made his eyes feel like they were boiling. The sensation of fear overwhelmed him, driving him into a well of despair. He screamed, he pleaded, he even tried to end it himself, but to no avail. Just the light, the damned yellow light, igniting his terror…

He woke with a gasp, desperately trying to ignore the rapid beeping of the heart monitor and the fact that he was completely restrained from head to toe.

"Napoleon?" April's voice was like cool water over his parched lips.

"April…" He fought to turn his head and ended up just moving his eyes. Her smile was so sad and it spoke volumes to him. It was over, his life with UNCLE. He knew that now and wondered what fate awaited him. "I guess I should be thankful that frontal lobotomies are going out of fashion."

"Why's that?"

"I would seem a prime candidate for one."

"Nonsense," April wiped his brow with a damp cloth. "THRUSH did something to you. We just have to figure out what." She smiled brightly, artificially. "Are you hungry? You haven't eaten since you woke up."

"Not really."

"Could you try for me?"

"For you." She left the room and brought in a tray with three covered dishes. She raised the head of the bed and then tilted open the lid of the first and peeked in. "This is soup… I think or possibly liquefied library paste."

"Yum."

"Dinner is something green, something gray and I think something that might have been chicken once upon a time."

"Oh, boy…"

"And dessert is the ever popular, yet rubbery and oh so tasty, Jell-o."

"Forgive my lack of enthusiasm as you've made them all sound so appetizing. I think the Jell-o."

"You got it." She took off the lid and held the bowl in front of him to offer him a spoon.

That's when Napoleon started screaming… again.

Illya looked up from where he sat, his right hand submerged in a bowl of ice, as Nellie raced into the room.

"You've got to come, you've got to come now."

Within an instant, Illya was on his feet and running beside her as she threaded her way back down to Medical. He was surprised when she led him to Room Seven, not Five where Napoleon was.

April was sitting on the bed, softly sobbing.

"April?" She looked up at him and Illya was secretly relievedthat smeared mascara was all that was marring her face. For a moment, he'd feared the worst, then he had an armful of Section Two agent and April was sobbing anew.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"Napoleon had another incident. This was the worst one yet. He nearly went into cardiac arrest. His body can't take much more of this, Illya."

"Then tell me what to do, Nellie. I am at the end of my rope."

"The THRUSH didn't talk?"

"They talked, but nothing they said made sense." He stroked the brunette hair softly with a swollen and bruised-knuckled hand. "Literally… I understand more languages than I speak and I've never heard whatever dialect they were babbling in. For all I know, they told us exactly what we want." He pushed her back and cupped her cheek. "Talk to me, agent." He purposefully made his voice gruff and April responded.

"He woke up and we were talking. He said he was glad that UNCLE didn't do frontal lobotomies because he knew his days were over with us. I told him that was nonsense and asked him if he wanted something to eat…"

"Go on."

"He settled on Jell-o and when I offered him the bowl, he went berserk. He wasn't angry, Illya, he was terrified. I've never seen anyone so scared in my life…"

"I have to confess to ambivalent feelings towards it as well. It was just Jell-o?"

"Yes, lemon flavored, I think…

"Lemon?"

"Well, it was yellow, so I'm guessing it was lemon."

Illya frowned. Something was playing with his mind… something… He pulled out his communicator.

"Communications please."

"Communications."

"Miss Hart, would you pull the last conversation that took place between Miss Dancer, Mr. Waverly and Mr. Solo and patch it through to me in Medical, Room Seven?"

"It should take just a few minutes, sir."

"Thank you."

"Illya?"

"There's something… I can't think…" He resisted the impulse to rub his eyes. He saw April and Nellie exchange a look. "What?"

"How long has it been since you've slept?"

"A few hours ago."

"During interrogations?"

"Before that then…"

"When you were with Mr. Waverly and me?" April asked quietly. "Or when you were waiting for Napoleon to wake up?"

"A bit earlier.... he trailed off when he realized April's attention had wandered again. "What?"

"So you haven't slept in, what, forty eight, seventy two hours…?"

"It doesn't matter… I need… to help Napoleon. "

"How about me?" April opened her arms again. "I know it's not exactly Section Two policy, but I could really use a hug right now."

Illya nodded, his mind elsewhere. Half-kneeling on the bed, it wasn't until he realized her arms were over his and felt the sharp bite of a hypo in his ass that he was alerted to their little plan. Immediately he began to struggle in April's grip, but she held him firmly.

"Damn it, Nell… Nell." He panted in an effort to resist the sedative, but slumped forward after a moment.

He was running down a corridor. They all looked alike by now, he could barely tell one from the other.

"Napoleon?!" His communicator beeped. "Anything?"

"Not yet."

"Keep looking, I know he's here."

"But, sir…"

"I said keep looking!" Illya trotted down another hallway, kicking in first one door and then the next. He'd have trouble walking tomorrow, but he didn't care about tomorrow. Right now, all that mattered was finding Napoleon.

He paused, something faint caught his attention… sobbing? That was… out of place.

He moved towards the sound, trying the door instead of following his first impulse. Whoever was inside might be frightened out of his or her wits and the last thing he needed was to add fuel to that fire.

The door opened after a struggle and Illya frowned. _Piss yellow_ was the first thing that sprang to mind. The walls were painted a brilliant yellow… yellow smeared with red… blood. Then he saw the lump in the corner, heard the sobs, worse than that, recognized the sobs.

Illya moved in that direction slowly. He wasn't sure what had been done to Napoleon, but he knew very well the damage Napoleon was capable of inflicting in a state of panic.

"Napoleon?"

"Stop laughing at me!" Napoleon's voice was husky, raw.

"I'm not…"

"I said, stop it!" Napoleon lashed out, but Illya easily evaded the blow. Napoleon immediately retreated back into his fetal crouch. Illya hated what he did next, but they both needed to get out of there. He took a few steps back, pulled his weapon free of its holster. He checked to make sure it had sleep bullets in it and fired point blank into Napoleon's shoulder.

There was a whimper, then nothing. Illya sighed and went back to his partner, pulling him out and away from the wall. Napoleon had been beaten severely, yet his hands showed defensive wounds. He hadn't gone down without a fight.

Illya dug out his communicator and opened the channel. "Kuryakin here. I've found Napoleon. Bring the medics in." He capped the pen and sat down, pulling Napoleon to him. "Just a few more minutes, Napoleon, and then I'll blow this place sky high for both of us."

"Napoleon?"

Napoleon screwed his eyes shut at the sound of his partner's voice. "Go away, Illya, I'll hurt you. I don't mean to, I don't want to, but I will."

"No you won't, Napoleon. It's okay now."

He could feel his hands being unbound, set free, and he was terrified. Too scared to think, to open his eyes, too afraid of what he would do.

"Trust me, Napoleon, it's okay now. We figured it out."

Napoleon let one eye creep open and he snuck a sideways glance at his partner, Illya sat there, in his usual dark suit, with his usual ugly black tie… and dark hair. Napoleon sat up, staring at Illya, and then reached out and touched the mahogany-colored hair. Then he let out a half sob and wrapped his arms around Illya.

"Oh God, I thought…." Immediately the Section Three agents leapt forward, but Illya shook his head and slid his arms around Napoleon.

"I know. I'm sorry it took me so long…"

"What's wrong with me?" Napoleon sat back and wiped an involuntary tear from his eye.

"You, my friend have picked up a walloping case of Xanthophobia."

"Of what?"

"A fear of the color yellow. I should be happy it wasn't Melanophobia; that's a fear of black. I would have been hard pressed to dress around you after awhile."

"What? That's impossible."

"Why? Partridge convinced me to kill you."

"Was it him? Did he do this…? I thought he was…"

"He is. The best we can figure is that this was one of his trial runs. He was enhancing the process through more primitive methods. Now that our people know what they are dealing with, they will find a patch. They fixed me, they can fix you." Illya smiled as much as he could. "Until then, I go dark and we stay alert."

"How did you figure it out?"

"Mark gave me the first clue when he said they'd stumbled onto these various colored rooms. I was still looking for a physical as opposed to a mental trigger, thinking it was me you'd been programmed against as I was you."

"Christine?"

"She was wearing an appropriately colored sweater over her uniform. April gave me my last clue when the Jell-o triggered you."

"That and a nap." April's voice came from behind him and Illya glanced over his shoulder.

"And we will discuss that at a later date. Both you and Nellie… we need to have a little talk about insubordination."

"Does that mean I'm free to go?"

"Sadly, no, you're stuck here for a few more days, we can't have to reacting to every yellow security badge in the place. At least you will escape the monthly staff meeting." Illya stood and checked his watch. "Which I am very nearly late for. I'll be back later. Get some rest until then." He turned to leave, pausing at Napoleon's,

"Illya?"

"Yes."

"Thanks."

"It's what partners do." And he was gone.

"Thank God."

"That Illya figured out what was wrong?" April fluffed Napoleon's pillow for him and he settled back against it with a sigh.

"No, that it was this and not something else…"

"Like what?"

"Russophobia."

"You're making that up."

"Wish I was, but it's very real. There are others that are worse though… the fear of beautiful women… the fear of kissing…" His eyes were growing very heavy now. "The fear of sex…"

April leaned over and kissed Napoleon's forehead tenderly. "At least we know you're still on the case as far as those go."

He drifted off, thinking about things cool and blue, the sky, water, his partner's eyes… and the world settled down around him, calm and quiet. He was finally safe and home.


End file.
